


Hot Whisky Eyes

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: And a Dollop of, And a bit of D/S, Angst, M/M, Multi, PWP, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:19:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time and time again, Ross has imagined the unthinkable: his two best friends, naked and wrapped in each other’s embrace.  ~IRL Hatsome AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Whisky Eyes

Time and time again, Ross has imagined the unthinkable: his two best friends, naked and wrapped in each other’s embrace. It started one evening when he’d sat himself down to enjoy a nice wank and he’d been momentarily startled to note how much the pornstars looked like his two friends. He’d pushed that thought aside but only a moment later he’d heard Smith yelling something or other at Trott and, well, one thing lead to another until he’d reached climax, biting down on his hand to prevent any unfortunate words from escaping into the air around him, body wracked repeatedly with pleasure until he’d collapsed, bonelessly, against the mattress. Perhaps that would’ve been that if he hadn’t paused and tried to remember, his mind hazy from orgasm, the last time he’d come that hard, and drawing a blank.

So, he gave in. A little lust between friends, sure, that was expected. At least he wasn’t imagining either of them fucking him? That was a little better, surely?

And then, one morning as he was hunched over his cereal bowl sipping tea, Trott had come to stand nervously in front of him, just short of wringing his hands.

“Mmm?” he’d mumbled with his mouthful of tea, and Trott threw a glance back over his shoulder, toward the living room where Smith was sprawled. Ross had felt unease stirring in his gut, and had set down his tea cup with a soft clink.

“Um,” Trott had said. “Smith wanted to, to keep it secret, wasn’t sure how you’d react, but, Smith and I are kind of a thing now.”

Ross had felt a cold rush pass through his body, the beginnings of dread grasping at his heart.

But fear was written across Trott’s face, and Ross couldn’t let his friends think he found them - disgusting? (Far from it.) So he forced a smile onto his face and gave his smaller friend a hug, telling him congratulations and that once Smith was done being a grumpy child he was more than welcome to get his hug as well.

So his life settled into a routine: watch Smith and Trott be loving and romantic and affectionate during the day, and at night, ensconce himself in his room and tantalize himself with thoughts of what they could be doing at that very moment, in the flesh, together.

He’d never felt anything like this before, this secondhand arousal. He couldn’t really begin to imagine why or how he’d begun to feel this way. It made him uneasy, all of this not knowing, but he made the best of it.

And yet all that would have amounted to nothing. His life would’ve continued in this ultimately unsatisfying vein had Smith not suggested that they take a holiday. (And that was another maddening thing, that he should’ve been grateful for - they treated him like old times. He wasn’t left out; they dragged him along to everything. They didn’t even seem to take dates on their own, always bringing Ross along and making an evening of it.)

Smith was the one who’d chosen the time and the place, and that was how the three of them ended up in a remote cabin in the middle of winter with shoddy WiFi. It was a quaint cottage, to be sure; and the kitchen was stocked and it had a nice fireplace. It was also tiny: one common room attached to the kitchen, one bathroom, and two bedrooms. Two bedrooms that shared a wall.

This was ridiculous, Ross thought fervently to himself the first night. Just because he could be aroused by the sounds of his friends having sex didn’t mean he _had_ to be. He was acutely aware that though this was the first time he’d heard them, Smith’s gasps and pants sounded familiar, as did Trott’s breathless moans and muttered profanities.

There was a hitch in Smith’s breath, painfully loud in the isolated quiet, and then Trott’s voice, encouraging, reassuring. Ross couldn’t make out individual words but he didn’t need to. Smith let out a breath in a huge sigh, and there were sounds of shifting and then, finally, silence.

With the room pitch black, no sound, there was nothing left to distract Ross from his aching hard-on, which was content to ignore his reasoning in favor of arousal. Aware of the need for silence, he still couldn’t help but slip his hand down beneath the lining of his boxers to brush lightly at his arousal. God, he should go -- somewhere else. But there was nowhere _to_ go; all of the rooms had equally poor soundproofing. He rolled over onto his stomach, hand trapped between his cock and the mattress. He eased up on his knees, giving his hand just enough room for movement. Then he bit his pillow, hard, concentrating on the thought must-not-make-a-sound. Slowly, he began to stroke himself, touches firm and exact. He played back the sounds in his head: Trott was surprisingly high-pitched, given that arousal usually deepened voices…

Damn it all, he _really_ shouldn’t have thought about that because now he’d realized that Smith must have been fucking Trott, been _in_ Trott. And now the imagined sight of Trott beneath Smith, rocking with him and making those high-pitched moans --

The numbing rush of orgasm flooded him with no warning and he bit down on the pillow hard enough to cause an ache in his jaw and he felt his hot liquid come cover his hand in thick spurts. He wiped his hand on his boxers as best he could before pulling his hand out from under him and allowing his weight to collapse onto the mattress with a light “pmff”.

It was difficult to breathe with his face smashed into the pillow, but he managed, too miserable to roll over onto his back. He felt sick. It was one thing to _fantasize_ , and quite another to - get off to the sound of his best friends. Goddamnit. He lay awake, counting the irregular beats of his heart and waiting for dawn to break.

Ross stayed in bed long after the sound of the shower had cut off, hoping beyond hope that they’d expended their energies there and nothing they would do would remind him of -- last night.

All for naught. When he’d gotten to the kitchen, fully dressed, Trott had been sitting on Smith’s lap while the two made sappy eyes at each other. Ross had rolled his eyes, all the while suppressing the too-vivid memories from the previous night. The sight of Trott perched on Smith’s lap reminded him of -- nevermind.

The uneventfulness of the day, too, wore at him - there was nothing much to distract him from his friends, and every move they made seemed calculated to catch his eye and keep it.

Finally, though, his restless night had culminated in him passing out on the couch in the main room. And for some reason or another, Ross didn’t know, the other two had been a bit more immediately frisky than usual.

In any case, Ross woke, confused, to the sight of Smith, shirtless, lying on his back on the floor, and Trott sat firmly in his lap, hands tangled in Smith’s hair as their mouths moved together.

Ross noted, with shocked and increasing arousal, Trott shifting his hips ever so slightly, teasing Smith with the promise of more.

Distantly, he felt his mouth drop open, arousal working its way to the pit of his stomach. He watched as Trott shifted once again, just a delicate lift and grind, and had to hold back an audible groan. Smith didn’t exercise such restraint, a gravely moan escaping him.

Ross felt he should move, do _something_ to alert them to his _very awake_ presence, but he was too late; Trott shifted his head just a little to drop kisses along the line of Smith’s jaw and they were making full eye contact, Ross’ heart shuddering to a fearful stop, all too aware of the arousal written across his face and in the bulge in his pants.

But Trott merely watched him, dark eyes narrowed in satisfaction, before he leaned in to whisper something in Smith’s ear.

Then they were both staring at him, and he felt his face burn with embarrassment.

Smith spoke, voice rumbly and too gruff: “Wanna join?”

Trott leaned back so he sat astride Smith, body language open and inviting. He shifted slightly on Smith’s lap and Ross watched as a grimace of pleasure crossed Smith’s features.

“Um.” Ross licked his lips. He considered just saying yes, but - these were his best friends. Surely they could understand him, out of anyone?

“I want to … to watch. If that’s okay.”

A considering look crossed Trott’s face, and Smith turned his head to look up at him. They shared eye contact for a moment, then Trott grinned, throwing a mischievous look at Ross. “Sure, mate, you kinky bastard.”

Smith chuckled and grabbed the hem of Trott’s shirt, tugging up at it insistently. Trott huffed and grabbed it, yanking it over his head in one fluid move. Ross settled in to the couch to watch, trying to ignore the instinctive twinges of guilt. They were okay with it. He wasn’t taking advantage.

Shirtless, Trott leaned back down against Smith, their bare chests flush against each other. Their lips met in a fervent kiss, the sound of their breath loud in the quiet cottage.

He shifted in place, trousers uncomfortably tight. Without taking his eyes off the two, his hands tugged at his fly, yanking his trousers down and - rising from the couch a little - off. He took his erection in hand, fingers grasping tightly but not moving - he didn’t want this to end too quickly.

He didn’t think Smith and Trott could get any closer, hips shifting in tandem and heavy breaths escaping their noses; their lips parted for only a moment, and their panting sent a thrill racing down Ross’ spine. Smith reached up and dug his fingers into Trott’s hair, pulling the shorter man’s head down toward his to resume their kiss. Trott let out a breathless whine at the feel of Smith’s fingers tugging his his hair, and Ross couldn’t help but begin to stroke along his erection.

He noticed Trott’s hands shuffling around, and watched with increasing anticipation as the smaller man reached for Smith’s erection. Smith’s fingers tightened further in Trott’s hair, knuckles white and taut. Ross could see Trott’s hand moving, obscured by both his body and Smith’s.

He wanted - no, he needed to see.

Releasing his own cock, he stood up from the couch. It only took a few steps, and then he stood beside his friends, towering over them.

This was nice. He could see the bones of Trott’s spine, his ribcage expanding and contracting rapidly. Smith’s hands were tangled in the other’s hair, eyes shut.

Neither of them had seen him move, Ross realized with a thrill. They didn’t know where he was standing now. His hand moved back to his erection of its own accord.

Smith rolled his hips, and Trott rose and fell, as if riding a wave. Ross noticed, with interest, that the movement had caused Trott’s trousers to slip. Ross reached forward with his free hand and tugged the fabric down a fraction.

Trott’s skin seemed to shiver under his fingers, and the smaller man pulled away from Smith briefly to pant, “Hello there, mate.”

Ross hummed in acknowledgement, fingers tracing back and forth across the fabric. Trott shifted his hips back up, toward him, and Ross drew his hand away. Trott let out a huff of breath, almost sounding annoyed, and dropped back down to mold his body against Smith’s.

“Can’t be too comfortable down there,” Ross said.

“I’m good,” Trott said.

“You’re heavy,” Smith corrected, and Trott flew upright on his lap.

“Jeez, it’s like you guys are _trying_ to ruin the mood, here,” Trott said. He stood and swung his leg over Smith, who sat up himself, disconcerted.

“Um,” Smith said hesitantly. “You, um, mad?”

Trott rolled his eyes, and with quick businesslike movements, undid the fly of his trousers and tugged both them and his boxers off. He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Wanna find somewhere more _comfortable_ , mates?”

Smith scrambled to his feet and Ross might’ve laughed at his eagerness if he wasn’t feeling similarly.

“‘Slike I told you, Ross, tiny, innit?”

“Tiny prick,” Ross agreed absentmindedly.

Trott crossed his arms, a lopsided smirk on his face. “Well, for being so tiny, it’s certainly caught your attention, hasn’t it?”

And with that he turned away and began walking back toward the bedroom. Smith threw a glance at Ross and waved his hand, rushing the other along. 

They entered the bedroom to see Trott sprawled on his back on top of the covers, arms outstretched and back arched. He held his position, taut, as Smith rushed forward in a sudden movement and grabbed his ankles.

Trott let out a chuckle, deep and throaty. “Mate, I have you _whipped_.”

“Fuck you,” Smith said, dipping his head down and pressing his lips to the inside of Trott’s knee.

“That’s the plan,” Trott said. He looked up at Ross. “Or is it?”

“What?” Ross asked, startled, hand around his cock forgotten briefly.

“C’mon, mate, it’s your show, innit?”

Ross stared at him, disbelieving, but Trott only smiled coyly back.

“This better as fuck not be a dream,” Ross said, hoarsely. “Can you, um, Smith, can you sit at the edge here, and, uh, Trott--”

“I’unno what the fuck you’re talking about, mate,” Smith said, voice muffled by Trott’s thigh. Trott swatted at his head.

“Then get up and look, you twat.”

With reluctance, Smith pulled back from Trott’s leg, and turned his attention on Ross, eyes uncommonly bright and grin mischievous. “‘Kay, mate, what’ve you got in store for us, eh?”

Ross blushed, feeling out of his depth. “Smith, can you sit here, on the edge of the bed,” he said, eyes flicking away as he gestured.

He would’ve sworn it was only a moment but when he glanced back Smith was stood directly in front of him, same edged grin on his face. He leaned in close, and for half a moment they were sharing breath.

Then Smith said, “Sure, mate,” and stepped away to take a seat.

Ross was thrown off his bearings, and his eyes darted nervously back to Trott.

“C’mon, mate, just like blocking a scene.” Trott said.

“I’ve never filmed something like _this_ before,” Ross retorted.

“Y’wanna?” Smith asked. Ross didn’t know if it was serious or in jest. He took a deep breath and soldiered on.

“Trott can you sit on his lap, um, facing me.”

“My back to his front?” Trott confirmed.

“Backend more like,” Smith said.

“Yes,” Ross told Trott.

Trott swung himself up and off the bed in one fluid movement, reaching Smith quickly and winking. “Gonna behave for me, mate?” he asked, dropping one arm on Smith’s shoulder.

Ross noticed something. “Um, wait!”

Trott turned around to face him.

“Um, can you, before you sit, strip him first?”

Trott grinned. “Definitely. You’ll probably want to take a seat, by the way, mate. Dunno if you could take this standing up.”

Smith let out a muffled laugh.

Ross went over to the opposite wall and grabbed the desk chair from where it sat, dragging it back over to the edge of the bed to sit, nearly shaky with anticipation, for the show to begin.

Trott deserved extra marks for showmanship, really.

He dipped his head down to Smith’s middle, tongue stroking once, making Smith’s stomach jump. Ross only just held himself back from commenting. Trott hummed, planting his left hand flat on Smith’s upper chest, pushing him back just enough so that Smith reached his arms out behind him to brace himself against the bed.

Trott grinned, teeth glinting white, and dragged his teeth across Smith’s stomach, to his hipbone. He opened his mouth and tongued wetly at the sensitive area, Smith’s broken groan enough of an indication as to what it felt like.

Trott’s hand, quick, reached over to Smith’s fly, undoing the button and dragging down the zipper. “Up, mate,” he murmured, and obediently Smith pushed his hips off of the bed, bracing himself with his hands. But, unlike Trott’d done with himself, he didn’t yank the trousers away; instead, he kneeled down between Smith’s legs and slipped his arms underneath Smith.

“Trott?” Smith asked quietly.

Trott ignored him, leaning in and mouthing hotly at the bulge in his jeans. Smith let out a hiss, Adam’s apple jumping as he swallowed at the sudden sensation. Trott moved higher, along the metal line of his zipper, and pressed his lips against the thin fabric of his pants.

Smith’s hips rocked forward, surprise and arousal crossing his features. Trott slid back, tugging the trousers and pants with him, pulling them down his legs and allowing them to pool on the floor.

Trott glanced over his shoulder, back at Ross. “How’s that?”

Ross, mouth frozen open in shock, hand clenching his erection on instinct, stared back at Trott and swallowed. He cleared his throat. “Can you sit on his lap?”

Trott obeyed, placing himself delicately on Smith’s lap facing Ross. Smith instantly tilted his head to mouth at the side of Trott’s neck, and Trott let his eyes drop closed with the sensation.

Ross hadn’t known what he wanted, only that he wanted to see. And now, with Trott perched on Smith’s lap, eyes shut and shoulders relaxed, he thought he had something of an idea.

“Trott’s legs on the outside,” Ross said, and Smith tucked his knees inside Trott’s to spread the smaller man’s legs apart. “Okay, Smith, you’re gonna use your hands and you’re gonna finish him off.”

Smith lifted his lips from Trott’s neck briefly. “Bossy, bossy.” But his hands moved accordingly, drifting down along Trott’s sides and tracing slowly over his arousal.

Trott tensed, eyes fluttering open at the sensation of Smith’s hands on him. Smith dropped a quick kiss, a peck really, on Trott’s cheek, before resting his head on Trott’s shoulder and beginning to stroke.

The touches were still only delicate; that much was obvious from the look of tortured pleasure contorting Trott’s face. Smith’s expression, by contrast, was calm, blissful almost. Ross brought his left hand to his erection as well, rubbing slowly on the sensitive head.

Smith’s movements were rhythmic, ebbing and flowing melodically. Trott twisted in his grip, and Ross said, “Relax,” quietly. Trott did so, but made a pout in Ross’ direction.

“Smith,” Ross said. “D’you mind telling me what you like about Trotty-too-Hotty?”

Eyebrows raised, Smith muttered, “Y’mean physical?” His hand tightened on Trott’s erection, and the smaller man’s back arched away from him, breath escaping his throat in a hiss.

“Yeah,” Ross said. If his voice sounded as hoarse as it felt, Smith didn’t comment.

“Hmm,” Smith dragged his head up, nuzzling against the crown of Trott’s head. “He’s got really soft hair, and it’s a great length to pull on.”

A faint smile crossed Trott’s lips.

“Good eyes, too, dark, long lashes. Hmm.” Smith trailed his lips back down the side of Trott’s face. “Those lips. Definitely.”

Trott’s face was beginning to turn pink, but he didn’t protest.

“But you know what’s best?” Smith asked, looking up to meet Ross’ gaze. Ross raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

Smith closed his mouth around Trott’s earlobe, and Trott hissed and rolled his hips. Smith drew away, and Trott let out a whine of frustration. “Is that he’s so damn responsive, the poor bastard.”

“But you know how to get him off quickly, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, go.”

Smith grinned. “Y’sure?”

“Let’s see how long until Trotty blows his load.”

“Fuck --” Trott’s insult cut off abruptly as Smith lifted one hand to bury itself in the strands of his hair. He pulled up, dragging Trott’s head to lean back against his shoulder.

“Shush,” Smith admonished.

“Fuck you,” Trott said.

Smith bent his head to capture Trott’s lips, and his hand sped up on Trott’s erection. The smaller man squirmed against him, wincing as his movement pulled his hair away from Smith’s grip. Smith’s knees pushed against the insides of his thighs, and his legs spread, forcing him to slump back against Smith’s chest, trapping him in Smith’s embrace.

The strain in Trott’s muscles was evident; his breath picked up, almost gasping as he lost himself in pleasure. And then, with a plaintive moan, he came, jerking in Smith’s grip sporadically. Smith kept his hand on the other’s erection, dipping his head down to rest his cheek against Trott’s.

As Trott gasped out a final hot breath against Smith’s face, Smith turned his head and pressed a kiss to Trott’s nose. Then he turned and looked directly at Ross.

Trott was still panting, eyes shut as he relaxed back against Smith’s body. He opened his eyes then, and the sleepy contentment in his eyes stirred Ross more than he had really expected.

“Trott, can you get on your knees and suck him off.” It came out surprisingly confident, and Ross wondered with some bewilderment how, exactly, they had reached this point.

“Yeah,” Trott said, breathless. “Just a sec.”

Ross nodded, leaning back in his chair, watching as Smith silently nuzzled the side of Trott’s face.

He cleared his throat. “Um, everything aside, you do make a very cute couple.”

A sharp grin drew itself across Trott’s lips. “‘Izzat so, mate?”

“I think we make a very cute trio,” Smith whined into the side of Trott’s head.

Ross was a little surprised at the emotion he felt. This wasn’t … what he had signed up for. There was a wistfulness tugging at him. He didn’t feel left out - it was, after all, him who had set up this situation - but he did feel some deep desire for just a little bit more. And Smith had brought it up, all on his own.

No one should feel this much like crying with their cock in their hand, Ross thought fiercely. “I think so too,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“Goes withou’ sayin’,” Trott mumbled, breath finally evened out. “‘Kay, sorry for the wait, lemme go, Smith.”

Smith dropped his arms, and Trott slipped down onto the floor fluidly, still facing Ross. Once again, Ross found himself startled - this time by how flexible Trott appeared to be, and then he remembered that Trott had done martial arts. That was most likely it.

But he was so _flexible_.

“The fuck’re you laughing at, mate?” Trott demanded, more playful than perturbed.

“Nothing,” Ross said. “Has anyone ever told you you’re very flexible, Trott?”

Trott laughed back, and said cheerfully, “Maybe.”

“Guys,” Smith whined. “Pay attention to me.”

“You big babby,” Trott said, giving a playful overloud sigh. “How on earth am I going to get him to stop complaining?” he asked Ross, who smiled back at him.

“I already gave you advice on that, mate, you’ve just gotta act on it.”

“Guess so.”

Trott looked up at Smith from his place on the carpet. He put on an aggrieved expression. “If it’s what I’ve gotta do.”

Smith whined, and Ross noticed with interest that his hands twisted up tightly in the sheets. Trott dropped a hand on Smith’s thigh, and the taller man’s stomach jumped. But his hands stayed where they were.

Ross filed that away for future reference.

Trott dipped his head down, presumably to trace Smith’s arousal with his mouth. But Ross realized he couldn’t see anything.

Damnit. He stood again, taking a few quick strides until he was beside them, looking down again.

Trott had his mouth around the head of Smith’s arousal, not moving yet, just looking up at the other man with wide eyes. Smith hissed and shifted one of his hands to grip the outside of his own thigh. Trott raised an eyebrow.

Trott breathed heavily out of his nose, and slid forward slowly until half of Smith’s cock was in his mouth. Smith was beginning to shift, antsy, on the bed, little whines escaping his mouth.

“Please, Trott, move,” Smith said, teeth clenched tightly.

Ross reached over to Smith, resting a hand on his cheek. Smith leaned into it, a moan escaping his lips. “Ross,” he said, beseeching.

“Sorry, mate, I’m leaving this one up to Trott. He seems to know what’s up,” Ross said, stroking his fingers along the line of Smith’s cheekbone and dropping his arm.

Smith gave a frustrated little whine and dragged the hand on his thigh up to his mouth, biting down on the fist in frustration.

Trott pulled back immediately. “Nah, mate, you’re gonna cut yourself and then you’ll get blood all over me. Hand on the bed.”

Smith looked at him with what could be described as a heartbroken expression, and if it hadn’t seemed quite so absurd Ross might have even felt sorry for him. “Listen to Trott,” Ross said, and Smith let out a slow, steady breath as he dropped the hand down onto the sheets.

“Thanks,” Trott said, and dropped his head down to Smith’s arousal again.

This time, though, he seemed to be bent on rewarding Smith: his movements methodical and skill evident in the ease with which he moved his mouth along Smith’s shaft. Smith grimaced, his brow furrowing as he attempted to control his response to Trott’s mouth.

“Don’t get yourself all worked up, Smith,” Ross said lightly. “Relax.”

“Fuck you,” Smith hissed through clenched teeth.

Trott slid up further, shifting his knees a little to bring himself closer to Smith. He pushed his head forward more, until he nearly had all of Smith’s erection in his mouth. He opened his eyes then, and hummed, and a stream of profanities spilled from Smith’s lips as he made eye contact with the other man.

And then as Ross watched, Trott slid forward that extra bit, and his nose was against Smith’s stomach. And then Smith finally lifted his hands from the bed, grasping at air in desperation as orgasm overwhelmed him. Trott reached up a hand and grabbed one of Smith’s, and Ross saw Smith tighten his grip on Trott’s hand.

Smith’s panting breath began to slow, Trott pulling back, allowing Smith’s slick cock to leave his mouth. He sucked in a deep breath, slow, hand still clasping Smith’s tightly.

It was then that Ross was brought back to himself, and he realized that he’d been so caught up in watching them that he’d simply left his hand clutching his erection. Shit. What was he supposed to do now?

Trott shifted back on his knees, out from between Smith’s legs. He let go of Smith’s hand and clutched Ross’ thigh, pressing his cheek against the smooth skin at his hip. His hand, warm, reached for Ross’, slowly pulling it away from his erection.

Ross looked down at Trott, watching carefully as the smaller man leaned in closer, until his hot breath was coating Ross’ arousal. Then, as his dark eyes stared up at Ross, he licked the side of his cock, just enough to drag a groan from Ross.

A weight on his chest alerted him to Smith, who had moved over on the bed to rest his upper body against Ross. Smith dropped a kiss against his ribcage, and a breathy sigh escaped him. Smith’s mouth began tracing upwards, hot breath and wet tongue leaving a trail of shivering skin in their wake.

Trott shifted his head, rubbing his closed lips along Ross’ arousal, eyes shut in an expression of contentment. Ross hissed in a breath as Smith’s lips grazed his nipple, and Trott shifted his head so that his cheek was lined up along Ross’ cock and his eyes were focused on Ross’.

“We didn’t really expect for this,” Trott said, voice gravelly. Ross only groaned, eyes falling shut as Smith began mouthing nipple in earnest.

“But mate, we knew you heard us last night.”

Ross’ eyes flew open, icy blue meeting dark brown. “Wha-” he tried to speak, but his breath caught as Trott shifted his cheek against Ross’ erection.

“We knew how loud we were being, mate. We were trying to keep it down at first but we got a bit carried away.”

Smith hummed against Ross’ chest, tacitly announcing his agreement.

Trott reached his hand up to cup Ross’ arousal, holding it against his own face. “When it got quiet, we were listening. We didn’t hear much, you did a good job keeping quiet. But there was just enough so we knew.”

Ross reached around, grabbing the back of Smith’s head and burying his fingers in the strands. He fought against the urge to thrust, knowing Trott wouldn’t appreciate that. Trott smiled up at him, and Ross felt the movement of the muscles in his cheek.

He moaned, tightening his fingers in Smith’s hair desperately. “You like that, Ross?” Trott asked, and the movement of his mouth against Ross’ erection made him dizzy with arousal. God, and - had they really known?

Trott continued. “We did too, mate. When you fell asleep on the couch, we both had the same idea.”

Ross clenched his teeth, hips thrusting forward some despite himself. Trott moved with the motion, waiting until Ross had stopped moving to continue.

“Do you know what it was like, mate, grinding against Smith while you were laying there asleep?”

Trott was looking up at him, expression patient. Waiting.

Ross sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “No.”

Trott grinned again. “I was sitting on top of him, feeling his erect cock against me, you right there, oblivious. Knowing you could wake up at any moment if we were too loud. Or anything.”

“What did wake you up?”

Again, watching him closely. Ross shut his eyes, desperately forcing his brain to work, despite the edges of that absolute pleasure teasing at the edge of his mind. “I … I don’t know.”

“You’ve got to have some idea,” Trott said.

Ross remembered, with sudden clarity, the feeling of arousal tugging at him - before he’d opened his eyes.

“I think I he-” Smith traced his teeth along his skin, and he had to suppress another thrust. “Heard. Asleep.”

“Really?” Trott said, sounding very pleased with himself. “While you were asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Trott said. He tilted his head a little, breath rushing out of his nose and along the skin of Ross’ cock. “So, mate, whaddaya want? I’d say you’ve more than earned your orgasm.”

Ross only whined, free hand reaching down toward Trott’s hair. Trott smiled, granting tacit permission, and Ross twisted his fingers in the shorter man’s silky hair.

He pulled Trott just a little bit toward him, and Trott narrowed his eyes. “Mmkay, mate, settle down,” he hummed. He moved his head, stroking along the side of Ross’ arousal, the beading precome leaving a streak of wetness smeared across his cheek. Ross whined again, and tugged Smith’s head up and away from his chest, pressing their mouths together with desperate fervor.

He couldn’t see Trott anymore but he felt the warm skin shifting along the side of his sensitive erection and Smith’s tongue was questing for Ross’, trying to capture him in a messy kiss, conveying affection and desperation in one.

Ross couldn’t help it, and thrust forward, but Trott seemed to take it in stride, tilting his head to trail his tongue along Ross’ arousal as he moved.

His stomach clenched, and fingers tightened instinctively around the other’s hair. He felt Trott’s tongue, warm and wet, licking up a few drops of his come. The rest landed onto Trott, making streaks of white against his skin.

Smith laughed gently against Ross’ lips, drawing back and dropping gentle kisses along his cheeks. “That was good, mate.”

Ross let out a shaky breath, loosening his grip on the others’ hair. Smith pulled back slowly, affectionate smile written across his face. Trott looked up at Ross with an unimpressed expression, Ross’ come painted across his cheek and shoulder. Ross laughed, a tad nervously, and Trott broke out into a smile. “All right, excuse me you fucks, I’ve got to go wash my entire face and also brush my teeth. The things I do for you.”

Trott rose to his feet, a little shaky. Ross’ arm came out automatically to rest against Trott’s back, holding him up. Trott rolled his eyes at Ross, but leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

“Get the duvet off the bed by the time I get back. It’s a fucking sauna in here,” Trott said, before turning on the spot and walking to the bathroom.

Smith met Ross’ eyes with eyebrows raised, and the two quickly yanked the duvet off the bed, pulling down the sheets. Ross stood at the side of the bed as Smith collapsed on the leftmost side.

Smith raised an eyebrow, patting the bed. “C’mon, mate, you’re not gonna run off now?”

Ross frowned. “No, I just - where do you want me?”

“Oh,” Smith smiled. “In between, of course, mate. Come to the middle.”

Ross climbed onto the bed, tentatively laying down so he faced Smith.

Their faces were so, so close, and Smith’s eyes were narrowed in satisfaction. He hummed gently, leaning in to press a kiss against Ross’ lips. He pulled back, only to lift his hand to trail along Ross’ face, smiling gently all the while.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me Trott was such a fucking menace?” Ross asked.

Smith grinned. “Oh, come on, mate. You really shoulda known.”

“Known what?” came the deep voice from the door.

“How much of a bossy sonovabitch you are, mate.”

“Fuck off,” Trott grumbled, audibly suppressing a yawn. Ross felt him slip onto the bed behind him, wrapping his arm around Ross’ waist. Trott’s lips pressed against the center of his back in a quick kiss, and he shifted forward to settle against Ross’ skin.

“You’re the big spoon, too?” Ross asked, feigning disbelief.

“More like a backpack, mate, amiright?”

“Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

“But I’m not tired…” Smith whined.

“Fucking make out then. But _quietly_. I’m exhausted.”

A grin spread across Smith’s face. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome, dickbag.”

Smith leaned in, pressing his lips against Ross’, and they moved slowly together as the sound of falling snow pattered gently against the window. And Ross closed his eyes, contentment settling deep into his bones.

They were his. Just as much as he was theirs.


End file.
